A Documentary of Time
by darkerlilyluna
Summary: Stories, all sorts of stories of all sorts of people, who all have one thing in common - they're magical. Do not own anything you recognize. T to be safe.
1. Metamorphagus - Nymphadora Tonks

Purple, red, green, blue - the young girl's hair was turning all sorts of different colours as she watched the rest of her cohort go up towards the hat and have their future decided. The girls seemed reluctant to go anywhere near the hat, and hung towards the back of the group. There was no reason to look at her funnily, the way I did, but nonetheless, the young metamorphagus intrigued me. They were quite rare - a product that only was formed through an interbred magical family's genetic suddenly slamming with that of a muggle-borns. I couldn't, for the life of me, think who the girl's parents could be (of course, I later placed her as the daughter of Andromeda, having gone to school with her mother and finding the metamorphagus' desire to be distanced from her first-name not unlike Andromeda's desire to be distanced from her last).

I usually didn't take any notice of the Sortings - I, Septima Vector, didn't teach First Years, after all. If they decided to do Arthimancy, I would take interest in them. If not - well, I would hope they'd do _something_ good with their lives. But a metamorphagus - that was downright strange.

Soon, "Tonks, Nymphadora!" was called out, and she pushed her way through the crowd, both face and hair going scarlet. She seemed to know she was the centre of attention, and I almost felt sorry for the girl. She swallowed and scrunched up her face, some-what self-conciously, and morphed herself into a girl who looked like a veela - silvery hair, bright blue eyes, high cheekbones and a thin but not skeletal frame. Everyone gasped - one of the other girls in her year (who had already been sorted) fainted, and Madam Pomfrey rushed to her aid. A redheaded boy - the second-eldest Weasley boy - just grinned. She continued up the stairs, flushing still, grinning a little at everyone's reactions, and of course, tripped on the way up the stairs. She didn't seem to be hurt, though did hurry a little quicker up the stairs.

She sat down on the stool, quickly morphing back into herself, and her legs swung, not quite reaching the ground. The hat was placed on her hand, and frowned - it seemed to be sorting through her entire brain. It finally came to a decision ("HUFFLEPUFF!") and she looked relieved, her hair turning a bright bubblegum pink. She sprinted over to the Hufflepuff table, where she was met by a sea of kind faces, and began watching her classmates. Pomona, who was next to me, seemed quite excited - it was her first year as the Head of House. Of course, everyone wanted the metamorphagus in their House, myself including. Not that I was a Head - but Ravenclaw would do well with such a magical anomaly. Quite clever, naturally, metamorphaguses are. Quite powerful.

I always took an interest in her, from her sorting, onwards. She seemed a little wary of me - she never took Arthimancy, silly girl, and always seemed to find me just as odd and perplexing as I found her. Extremely friendly, yes, but a slight shake to her voice.

And now her son, Teddy Lupin, sits in front of my desk, twiddling his thumbs nervously, as if attempting to come up with a reason of why his _very first_ piece of Arthimancy homework is late, and I've told him to sit still and wait for a second. His mother, charming - went and got herself killed in the war.

"I am thinking." I lean forward, just slightly, "That you are a metamorphagus, as was your mother, and you are probably very talented, like your mother. Hufflepuff, like your mother." He chews his lip, looking slightly afraid. "Your mother was afraid of me - I fear she never took Arthimancy because of me, which is a shame, she would've been quite good at it. Your father, of course, was _brilliant_ at it... I'm thinking you should've been Gryffindor, like your father.

Teddy swallows. "Why?"

"You're brave enough to come and talk to me. Your mother would be proud.

"I'm glad you think so."


	2. Archimedes - Minerva McGonagall

**Pottermore Challenge - Gringotts' Wizarding Bank: Write about someone gaining something of great value. _Alternatively, write about someone losing something of great value._**

**Disney Character Challenge/Competition - Archimedes: Merlin's owl, who is very wise and helps Arthur with his training. Write about a person who teaches someone something. _Alternatively, write about Minerva McGonagall._**

* * *

It had been many, many decades since Minerva McGonagall had spoken a single word to Dougal McGregor. It had been many, many years since she had loved him. It had been two decades since her husband, Elphinstone, had passed. She had not thought about the little golden chain necklace that had come into her posession as a foolish eighteen year old in so very long.

She had sold the cottage her and her husband had lived in - she had assumed the chain had been lost somewhere in the house, stuck between floorboards or hidden, down behind a sink. It didn't matter, she told herself, it didn't matter. And she vowed not to think of it again, because, well, why should she? She had been married and was widowed - a silly chain from a silly boy all those years ago did not matter, not at all.

She was Headmistress of Hogwarts, and for once, utterly bored. She longed to mark Transfiguration essays, or plan lessons, or even reflect on classes - but none of that was in her reach. She had hazy recollections of Hermione Granger's outstanding work, but having taken up the role of Headmistress in the 1998-1999 school year, there was no grand student more recent than the Granger girl - though Minerva doubted there would ever be someone as clever as that damned girl anyhow.

Perhaps there could've been a bright student from 1997 - but if there was, McGonagall did not remember the student at all. That year had been nightmarish - no-one ever really bothered in classes or teaching anymore, not when there was the constant threat of being tortured and killed by the very same person who gives you Defence Against The Dark Arts homework.

And so Minerva was bored; and had decided, for nostalgia's sake, to go through her old things. Oh, the things she found - a tattered copy of _Transfigured Trolls; Transfiguring Life_ still remained, a book from her First Year at Hogwarts, although she'd continued to read it as she got older, reading the more advanced chapters. She opened the front page - in neat green ink, her looped handwriting (slightly messier than it was now - she'd been excited to go to this magical school she'd only just been told about by her mother, and excited to label everything and get ready to go. She'd also been younger) spelling out 'T_his book is the beloved property of Minerva McGonagall. If found, please return to the Head of_ Gryffindor _House so it can be returned to a thankful girl'_. She'd written the "Gryffindor" part in later, after she'd been sorted.

Most curiously, beneath this writing, a little gold chain was curled up, scrunched and flattened and slightly rusted, and Minerva's wizened fingers prodded it, before picking the chain up and dangling it from a finger, to make sure it was the very same one; and it was, oh it was, the one she'd clasped around her neck in joy as an eighteen-year-old girl, giddy in love and the excitement of their second date and a _gift._ Back then it was worth a thousand galleons, or more (now it might've fetched twenty on a good day - but Minerva simply did not _care,_ it was valuable to her), and she'd treasured it. An odd set of circumstances had led to it having been folded and left to rust in a weathered, tattered outdated schoolbook. And she set it down on her desk, vowing to keep it there, safe, and see if she could find any use for it, before digging through the rest of her old school trunk.

There were many more things to be found; tattered robes and chocolate frog wrappers; stray Bertie Botts Beans; a black-and-white picture of Minerva and her best friend who was killed in the First Wizarding War against Voldemort. The two fifth years laughed into the camera, Minerva's hair tumbling down her shoulders, proudly wearingher Gryffindor robes, and Tyche, blond hair secured with a no-nonsense band, Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around her neck. The chain was forgotten.

* * *

The next day, August 31st, and students would be flooding in this time tomorrow, excited First Years and smug Sixth Years thinking they'd get time off, and perhaps at home there'd be some slightly nostalgic eighteen year olds, aching for their school again. Minerva was making a speech tomorrow, had to make sure the announcements were right and ready, check the train was working, the boats were ready, the Sorting Hat was prepared and still up to the job (not that he had ever not been before). And in her strange little hurry the chain fell to the floor and had books dropped on it and feet stamping on it and became a broken, dead little rusted gold chain.

* * *

September 2nd, and everything was running smoothly, and was going smoothly, and was set to go smoothly, and well, what other outcome could there have been? And Minerva was more than ready to collapse into bed, barely on her feet. She noticed something gold on the floor and picked it up. It was the chain, of course, the little gold chain and she cradled it in her hands - it looked exactly the same as it was when she found it, but the little chain was in pieces and Minerva had no choice but to throw it away; a barefoot walk in the middle of the night could lead to awkward questions and pain in her feet. And Minerva wasn't one to cry or weep over material possesions - a person, that was another thing, but not over something as stupid as a gold chain from a boy she told herself she'd long stopped loving. But she did mourn, a little, with a burning pain in her chest, not that she would ever admit it. It had been valuable to her, but it was just valuable to her now. Once thousands of galleons, a precious present, but now there was no-one, not even some greedy shop-keeper to envy the broken chain. Just Minerva to bury it.


	3. Lost - RoseParvarti

Rose was lost, fifth year, very lost.

(who could help her?)

Her family tearing themselves apart with a new threat and she was stumbling through the darkness, trying to get out of their hell

(she needed a light)

Tired, almost drowned in homework and rage, falling asleep over a butterbeer

(someone, please, carry her home)

And a pleasant voice waking her up, a merry whisper, a dazzling grin

(the voice belongs to a woman the same age as her mother)

Parvarti was lost, forty-two, very lost.

(who could help her?)

No job, a handful of sickles, no boyfriend, sister _poof_, gone

(she needed love)

Cold, dying in desperation for another friendly face, sitting next to a redhead without thinking

(please, someone, talk to her)

A tired, beautiful, freckled face looking up at her

(a weasley, it must be a weasley)

"Miss Patil!"

(she was still miss; never married, no children)

"I'm Rose Weasley. I believe my parents went to school with you." (a weasley; redhead, she had to be a weasley - she was just a different weasley, bushy-haired, her hair colour really actually rose)

"I'm a Ravenclaw; prefect."

(brains; the girl must've had her mother's brains, that was for sure)

"Pleased to meet you. Call me Parvarti. You look exhausted." (carry her home, was the silent whisper, i'm so tired)

"I am. You look hungry. Could I get you something to eat?"


	4. Stressed - Hermione Granger

**Flourish and Blotts: 1 - Hermione Granger**

* * *

I can't believe _my _Rose, my Rosie would do this. Clever, very intelligent - Ron always said she had my brains but at the moment she's acting like him. I mean, sure - it could work in later years, when both families have time to process it, but at the moment I completely disapprove! If this _had _to happen, I would've hoped the other party was someone other than _him_, of all people.

In the middle of her O.W.L year! By the time she has to sit them, all her brains would've been drained out and replaced by a consciousness that so many young girls have. I thought she could fend it off! My Ravenclaw, my clever, clever Rosie.

I'm hoping to see her at Easter, where we can have a nice, long chat about all this. And perhaps ban her from Hogsmeade.

I'm in shock. First, this, secondly - well, who knows? This time next year she could be married with a kid!

And the "other party" - Scorpius Malfoy, who Ron, his brothers, Harry, and Teddy are all trying to murder (I almost feel sorry for him. Almost), not the best kid around. He's Ravenclaw, like my Rose - he and Al have the same dorm room - but not as bright as Rosie. And he certainly can't control his lusts, either. Poor judgement, I think the Sorting hat has displayed, although really, who can tell the future? (Trelawney was a hag and a hoax).

And Rose - oh, what did Rosie do? She must've played some part of it - it was consensual, I've been assured (although Madam Pomfrey did look I little confused when I wanted to know). But I really thought she had brains. She's only fifteen! Much too young for all this rubbish.

(Yes, point taken, I was fifteen when I was in a relationship with Viktor, but something like _this_, it only happened once, and it wasn't even properly.)

I swallow hard, and grip my desk tightly. I'm at work, my daughter's mistakes shouldn't be worrying me right now. I should be more worried about a case of a House Elf found in Zabini House without pay.

(perhaps I'm a bit over-protective; she's clever, she'll manage this reasonably, and no-one was worrying when Viktor and I went out - but she's my baby girl, my only girl, and it feels like a kick in the neck for this to happen. Like, '_you didn't teach her well enough'_)

What if I have done something wrong? What if it was a fluke of her being smart all these years, and she really has no common sense? Am I a bad parent? I would certainly think not - I've read every parenting book and scrolled through every muggle parenting forum and I've had the help and guidance of the best mother in the world - Molly Weasley.

No, I'm a good parent. I've read every book there is on the topic - I can tell you eighteen strategies on how to get your kid to turn the heater on. It's just - hormones, it must be. Teenage hormones affecting her thought process. Making her do irrational things. Yes - how could I be so stupid? Of course it's hormones.

(that's what I'm telling myself)

There's simply no other logical reason why Rose, at only fifteen, would _kiss _someone, particularly Scorpius Malfoy. I mean, she's only been a teenager for two years! Much too young to be kissing any boy. She should wait until she's at least of age. Or maybe until she's thirty - yes, that sounds reasonable. I really don't approve of her kissing people right now. She needs to focus on O. .

Oh dear, what has my daughter gotten herself into?


End file.
